


Transfer

by viceversa



Series: One Word [18]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt, Post One Son, UST, because there always is, mention of Diana Fowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-23 17:58:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17688173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceversa/pseuds/viceversa
Summary: prompt: "Scully requests reassignment after the "making it personal" conversation about Diana"





	1. Chapter 1

“Scully what the hell is this?” 

Mulder stands up behind the desk,  _his_  desk, holding her half-finished paperwork in his hand. Shit. He wasn’t supposed to see that, not yet if ever. Scully almost apologizes, but she bites her tongue. She’s still pissed at him. And hurt. 

“What does it look like, Mulder?”

She flashed back to his comment, said with such derision and lack of thought that it smacked her in the face.  _“Scully, you’re making this personal.”_  Of course it was fucking personal, Mulder. It was about her, it was about them, it was about everything they’d been fighting for and against for years. Making it personal. 

Well, if he didn’t see it that way, then what was she here for, really?

The next day that she had time, in a fit of leftover anger, of desperation and petulance and frustration, she’d gotten the forms from upstairs and began filling them out. In tiny, neat, black handwriting, she’d written down the statistics of her life. Special Agent Dana K. Scully, M.D. Badge number JTT0331613. Transfer to: Hell, anywhere else. Quantico, California, Alaska, the fucking moon. Out of this basement. It’s not personal, Mulder. 

She’d almost finished when the section “Reason for Transfer” came up. What would she say? What  _could_  she say - her partner hurt her feelings? Fuck. She threw down the pen and stalked off, needing to take a walk and cool her head. Should she throw away the X-Files, her relationship with Mulder, all because of one comment? Could she?

It wasn’t just one comment, though. It was years of slights, of him running off without her, of her getting hurt, feeling hurt, feeling like she didn’t matter. Like he didn’t need her. She can’t rely on one desperate conversation in his hallway a year and a half ago to believe that she’s important to him, not after no follow up, not after he decided the work wasn’t  _personal to her._

Not when he decided that her very reasonable and justifiable concern over trusting anything his ex told them, in the face of all the evidence pointing that she was one of Them, was her being petty. 

“It  _looks_  like transfer papers. What the hell, Scully?” He shook them in the air, his fist tight around the pages, curling them.

Just because she was proved right, that they couldn’t trust Diana Fucking Fowley, just because the syndicate was in shambles now and they had a chance in the battle, just because they were best friends, that they were almost more - none of it meant shit if this was going to be her life. If her connection to the fight was going to be written off with no consideration. If her input wasn’t going to be respected, or even listened to, by her partner. 

Reason for leaving? God, what was her reason for staying?

“Don’t take it personally, Mulder. I assure you that it’s just time for me to move on,  _personally_.”

Okay, she was laying it on a bit thick. But he deserved it. 

“Take pers- Scully! You are  _not_  transferring!”

He was getting really angry now if the flush on his face said anything at all. Scully on the other hand was cool and poised, at least on the surface. She stood feet in front of the desk, arms crossed, defensive and offensive all at once. 

“I will if my request goes through.”

“Why? Why would you, now of all times, Scully! We have a shot! They’re weakened, finally, and we have a real shot at stopping Them! And you’re just going to leave me?”

 _Leave me?_  No, she probably wouldn’t. The walk had cooled her down, staring at “Reason for Transfer” had put ice in her veins. She couldn’t leave him. But the fact that she had wanted to still rattled her. Was she ignoring her gut?

“Mulder, truth be told, I have not been feeling very connected to the mission of this department, and I think it may be time to move on.”  
  
There. That’ll show him. Make him think. She reached out for the papers still grasped in his hand, but before she could take a step forward he’d ripped them in half. 

“Mulder! Of all the childish-”

“Childish, you want to talk childish? How about transferring away from your career after six years on a whim?”

“On a  _whim? Are you kidding me?”_

Scully stalked closer to him, throughly pissed now and showing it, not as over the situation as she’d thought. She bared her teeth, practically spitting at him.

“I can’t begin to count the many, thought out, put-up-with-for-too-long reasons why I’m leaving this miserable basement and this miserable department and this  _miserable_  partnership.”

Mulder rounded the desk, wadding up and throwing the remains of the half-finished forms angrily to the floor. 

“Just because you don’t get your way on some cases-”

“Excuse me? Do you really think that is what this about?”

“Well what else could it be?!” 

Scully’s jaw dropped. Was he really so dense? Did he really believe that she’d walk away for no reason at all? She contemplated her response for half a second, slap him shoot him tell him off, but stopped those thoughts as soon as she saw it. 

Beneath his angry facade, his tense muscles and clenched fists, she saw it. Saw that damn lower lip of his tremble. 

The fight within her broke in half, puncturing some soft spot inside with the realization. Mulder was scared, that she would leave him like this. Break his trust so easily, abandon him. She suddenly felt like the world biggest bitch, leading him down this path when she knew damn well she’d shackle herself to him and the basement if anyone tried to get her to leave. 

Her form deflated, she felt defeated. No, she wasn’t going anywhere. Mulder had hurt her with his comment, but she’d hurt him just as bad in the last ten minutes, just by filling out that damn form. 

“Mulder, listen. I’m not-”

“You know what, Scully?” His bravado didn’t stop his voice from breaking on her name. “Fine. I’m sorry I ripped your forms. I’m sure it’ll be easy to get more. Good luck in your future pursuits.”

The last bit was mumbled as he shoved past her, gathering his coat and rushing out the door before she could stop him. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> due to popular demand: a followup

Complete and utter disrespect from her partner. That’s a reason for her to leave. Incompatible work relationship. Unprofessional work relationship. She felt demeaned, like her voice didn’t matter.

Scully stood stock still for a minute, playing the absolute meltdown and argument she had just been a part of. Mechanically, she collected the pieces of her transfer request and threw them in the to-shred box.

After fighting for months, they were back in the basement, back on the X-Files, and Scully didn’t know what she wanted anymore. Her desire to be out from under Kersh’s thumb, away from assignments that got her paired with rookie agents and shot by them, away from the bullpen where no one respected her, respected Mulder, was dampened with the realities of her partnership. A partnership where her opinion was lesser. Where her input was unnecessary, brushed off, treated as an annoyance.

Scully had wanted back on the X-Files with Mulder. She had wanted their freedom back, their relentless hunt for the truth. And she got it. But for what reasons? At what cost?

Agent Spender was dead. Fowley was on the loose. And Mulder had shoved her so far away with distrust and a snide comment that she didn’t know the way back. She didn’t know if she had the energy to find it.

And now, even after yelling and filling out forms to get the hell away from this mess that was her career, her life: now she couldn’t bring herself to leave him.

She sat down at the desk with a slight grimace. Scully’s stomach still hurt, where Ritter’s bullet had left what should’ve been a deadly trail through her body. It ached and pulled, a constant reminder that once again, she should be dead. Once again, this job almost killed her.

She had felt justification before, for her own almost-sacrifices. Abducted? Tortured? Medically raped? Given cancer? Dependent on a metal implant in her neck? It was all for the truth, everything happened for a reason, it tied her closer and closer to the mission and gave her the drive to keep fighting, if not for herself then for her sister, who was murdered in her place. For her daughter, ripped from her in the cruelest way possible.

What else was she willing to lose?

_But it’s not personal, Scully. Don’t be so petty, Scully. Just because you’re the only one I trust until Diana Fucking Fowley comes back into my life._

Fuck you, Mulder. Fuck you, and your trembling lip, and your god damn narcissism.

_Good luck in your future pursuits_. 

She hated him again, in an instant. A part of her wanted nothing more than to blame Diana Fucking Fowley, but Mulder was the one to fall for it, to listen to the enemy, to ignore her evidence.

Scully cared for Mulder. She loved him, she couldn’t avoid that any longer. So yes, she felt bad that he was hurt by her filling out that request. But she couldn’t help but wonder if he felt bad for her hurt, too. If he even recognized it, or if he was so fucking blind by having the X-Files back, chuffed over the syndicate being half torched, that he didn’t stoop to consider the feelings of his best friend whom he’d royally screwed over with a simple sentence.

But it wasn’t just a sentence. It was weeks of him not asking about her life, not visiting her after she almost died again, of being distant. It was months of discontent, of self-centered wallowing. It was years of saying he trusted her, and then never showing that trust. Years of running off, of not listening to her, of dismissing her words and her actions and her person.

So, when Mulder rushed past her out of the basement office, she didn’t follow him. Instead, she sat down at _his_ desk and did her fucking job.

-

The longer she sat sorting through paperwork and files, trying to reorganize what Spender and Fowley had done to their work, the more she stewed. Mulder was so, so stubborn. Infuriatingly stubborn. So focused on whatever he believes in, whether it be truth or fiction, that he disregards anything in his path to that goal.

He believed Diana, believed her lies and her allure.

Believed in her so foolishly that he ripped Scully in half with his bullheadedness.

And then went on like nothing had happened.

Sure, he’d been pissed that Fowley was somewhat involved with the whole ordeal, but it must’ve slipped his attention that she’d been directly involved in what had happened to Scully in the past. That Fowley had been a part of the syndicate, then league of men that abducted her, raped her, mutilated her. That almost killed her, time and time again. That she’d been a complicit part of the conspiracy that had murdered Melissa, that had taken Samantha and done God knows what with her.

What was it about Diana _Fucking_ Fowley that so blinded him?

What was it about Mulder, that was so easily fooled?

Scully sighed, despondent and feeling small and helpless in Mulder’s office chair. As cheesy as the poster behind her was, it spoke to Mulder’s soul. He wanted to believe with a desperation even she couldn’t understand. He wanted to believe so badly, that nothing, not even herself, could make him stop and think and question. Not until now. Maybe, maybe not ever.

Scully pushed aside worthless files to be shredded, compiled by Spender and Fowley to make the X-Files look like trash. Their system was off, files misplaced or even missing from what she could see. The office, their sanctuary, had been violated once again. Once by fire, and now by hands intent on destroying their work from the inside. 

Hours later, Scully nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw a figure hovering out of the corner of her eye. Mulder was back, and he was staring at her.

She looked up, drawing strength from her position behind the desk, from her obvious dedication to working, and waited for Mulder to speak, their positions reversed from earlier in a sad echo of discontent.

He looked like shit. It brought her a small measure of comfort, of justification, but deep down she wondered why he was upset. Was it because she threatened to leave him? That she dare think for her own future, of a future that didn’t include him? Or did he realize exactly how much he fucked up?

“I’m sorry, Scully.”

That was a start. She wanted to reply, she wanted to ask what he was sorry for, wanted to know if he knew that he had hurt her, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction.

He stood there longer, still in his coat, looking somewhere on the carpet between them. They were silent a beat longer, and Mulder’s nervous energy finally conceded and he began to talk in earnest.

“I know, I know I fucked up, with Diana. With trusting her, when I should’ve realized the truth.” He made furtive eye contact with Scully, a vulnerability present that she was summarily unprepared for. “When I should’ve trusted you.”

Scully relaxed marginally, waiting for more but know that was all she was going to get out of him in way of apology. Mentally, she buried the _personal_ incident. She was past it, now. Now that he knew he fucked up.

Mulder continued to fidget, his hands grasping and ungrasping at the uncomfortable atmosphere as he shifted back and forth on his feet.

“I don’t want you to leave the X-Files but if that is what you want to do I will support you and write you the best damn recommendation letter the bureau has ever seen. You should be in charge of us all, director if the whole damn FBI. You’ve got reasons to get out of this basement and I realize that I am not a good enough reason for you to stay. I can’t keep you here. As much as I want to.”

The last part was quieter than the rush of words that preceded it, but Scully still heard him.

“Mulder,” she started, standing and shifting files to their appropriate piles. “I’m not requesting a transfer. I was upset, and acted irrationally in filling out those forms. I’m sorry to have undermined every time before this where I said I would not leave the files, that I would not leave you.”

She rounded the desk and approached his still twitching form, placing her hands on his elbows in an echo that reminded her of a burnt office and a broken Mulder.

“Sometimes,” she paused, reconsidering her words, wanting them to count. “Sometimes, Mulder, I feel as though you don’t trust me. You brushed me off, even with my evidence that Fowley wasn’t genuine. You even dismissed what the Gunmen turned up.”

She nudged his arms a little until he looked down at her. 

“You pushed away the only people who have backed you up, been there for you—the only people you have put your full trust in. You hurt us, Mulder. You hurt me.”

Mulder moved quickly, embracing her with his full form, her head tucking reflexively under his head. “I’m sorry, Scully. I know there’s nothing I can say to get that across. I’ll be better. My actions will reflect it.”

“Don’t let it happen again.” She spoke into his chest, loud enough to make her point, but soft around the edges to relay her conditional forgiveness. Trust would come back in time.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks anon who requested this!


End file.
